


Yusuke says fuck

by starisato



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Established Relationship, Friendship, I only tagged Futaba and Yusuke because theirs was the most fun to write, M/M, One Shot, the Akira/Yusuke isn't really a focus but they're still a cute couple, there are lots of friendships going on in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starisato/pseuds/starisato
Summary: A group talk about past traumas and lingering shadows leads Futaba to give Yusuke some questionable self-improvement suggestions.The Phantom Thieves would probably make pretty terrible therapists, if we're being honest.





	Yusuke says fuck

**Author's Note:**

> This fic honest to god started as a joke with a friend on Discord and here we are now. A 2.6k word joke that I accidentally took seriously. I'm so sorry

It was a quiet, rainy day in the streets of Tokyo. It was almost romantic in its perfection; light grey clouds hung low in the sky, and the sounds of bustling city life were muffled under a peaceful, even drizzle. It was the sort of shower that left picturesque streaks on the windows as puddles pooled along the sidewalks and sluiced down into gentle trickles along the curbs. It was the ideal weather for enjoying a home cooked meal and hot drink, taking comfort in the steady patter of raindrops and the distant rumble of thunder.

In a hidden little street in Yongen-jaya, tucked away in an old cafe, a group of friends did just that.

It was supposed to be a study session. But even Makoto, despite her best efforts, couldn’t do much to keep the others focused. It wasn’t too long before the quizzing had shifted to joking, courtesy of Ryuji. Before they knew it, their work was shoved off to the side of the booth in favor of Sojiro’s curry and coffee. Everyone was in high spirits as the conversation wandered this way and that. The boss had excused himself to buy cigarettes about half an hour ago- and, if Akira’s hunch was right, to give the group a little space.

The conversation peaked when Futaba, curled up in a booth seat in her trademark sitting position, shattered the peace with a weighty question.

“Inari, do you even know how to swear?”

Prim and proper Makoto, sitting to her right, couldn’t quite hide her snort behind her hand. Ryuji’s reaction was a little less subtle; the legs of the chair he’d been leaning back in clattered to the ground as he nearly doubled over.

Yusuke, from his position across the booth from the girls, only reacted with a furrowed brow. “Excuse me?” His left hand, which had been idly running through Akira’s hair as he leaned on the artist’s shoulder, slowed to a halt. Akira made no effort to hide his pout, but Yusuke didn’t seem to notice.

“You know, curse words. Like-”

“I know what swearing is, thank you.” His voice was tinged with irritation. “Please do not demonstrate in a public business.”

Futaba only rolled her eyes. “No one’s here, Yusuke. It’s just us.”

“It’s still not kind to the owner-”

It was Akira’s turn to snort as he turned his gaze upwards to catch Yusuke’s eyes. “Sojiro’s a bad example.”

Yusuke frowned. “Is he really?”

Akira shrugged, slouching further into the boy’s shoulder. “I guess he’s always pretty polite to you. But you should hear him with some of his regulars.” A pause. “And with me. Hah.”

Yusuke only hummed thoughtfully as he intertwined his fingers with one of Akira’s free hands, earning a contented grin from the other.

“You know,” Makoto interjected, “It isn’t like that’s a bad thing. He’s certainly got better manners than either of you.”

Futaba glared. Ryuji scowled. Akira just gave her a cheeky smirk. “I seem to remember someone’s awakening here being very colorful, miss president.”

Makoto flushed bright red. “That’s not-”

“What were your words again?” Akira tapped his chin with a finger in mock thought.

Ryuji interjected with a toothy grin. “Somethin’ like, ‘Shut your damn mouth, you money-grubbing assh-’”

“Okay, enough!” She tried her best to look irritated, but the pink glow of the tips of her ears betrayed everything. This earned her a low chuckle from Yusuke. “Shut it.”

“Sorry. Though I will admit, it was an artful moment.”

Futaba sighed, crossing her arms across the table and propping her head up on them. “Wish I could have seen it.” She blew her bangs out of her face with a huffy breath. “Say, Akira, did he even swear during his awakening?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Just dragged his fingers across the ground until they bled. It looked painful. And dramatic.” A pause. “And kind of sexy.”

Futaba made a pained face. “Eeeugh.”

Yusuke’s expression was bashful for just a split second before the politely puzzled face was back. “I am… not entirely sure what my awakening has to do with this question. My apologies if this was unpleasant for you, Makoto.”

She waved a hand dismissively as the pink faded from her face. “Oh, it’s fine…” She still sounded a little meek, but after a moment she seemed to regain her composure. “I think I understand what Futaba’s getting at. An awakening is pretty personal. It’s easy to get… heated.” Ryuji shot her a smug look and coughed, to which she rolled her eyes. “At any rate. Some sentiments can only be conveyed by, well, choice language. The circumstances wouldn’t have been that surprising, even for you.”

It was Ryuji’s turn to roll his eyes. “You sure have a way of makin’ everything sound so formal.”

“Oh, hush.”

Yusuke hummed, deep in thought. “I suppose it’s never felt important for self expression.”

Futaba stuck her tongue out. “Oh, boo. Booooooo.”

“Stop that. It’s unbecoming of you.”

She blew a raspberry in response.

Akira, seemingly resigned to his fate of no longer having Yusuke’s undivided attention, sat up in his seat. His free hand reached up idly to toy with a strand of hair in his face. “Is it easier to do in your art?” he asked.

“Pardon?” Yusuke responded.

“It’s just that your artwork feels so…” he paused, rooting around his brain for the word he was looking for. “...raw. You’re pretty calm, but your projects feel different.”

Ryuji perked up. “Hey, you’re right! Like the painting Ann found at that bastard’s show!” Yusuke’s flinch at the descriptor was almost unnoticeable, but Akira felt his hand shaking in his grip. “It seemed so… y’know. Nothing like what we expected from you at first glance. No offense.”

“None taken.” His hand stopped shaking, but that didn’t stop Akira from rubbing small circles against the back of it with his thumb. Yusuke spared him a thankful side glance before turning back to Ryuji. “I suppose it is easier. Pictures say what words cannot.” A thoughtful pause. “Especially when the way you’re expected to act limits that vocabulary.”

The tinge of sadness in his tone was not lost on the group.

Yusuke seemed oblivious to the atmospheric shift as he carried on. “Sensei always expected professionalism. It didn’t matter if it was in public or at home.” His eyes softened the slightest bit. "Acting out was met with swift repercussions. There were no such consequences for taking it out on a canvas instead.”

No one quite knew how to respond to that. After a beat, Yusuke returned to his curry. “You don’t need to stop on my account. It would be a shameful waste of the boss’s services.”

Ryuji shook his head as annoyance flashed across his face. “No, man, let’s talk about this. That’s some real bullshit.”

“It’s alright, really. After all, the man is behind bars.” Akira felt the fingers in his grip tremble again.

“Yeah, but still…” The old floorboards under the table squeaked as Ryuji’s leg started to bounce. “Doesn’t mean it’s fair. It’s like he’s still haunting ya.”

“Yes, well.” A solemn sigh. “That’s the nature of the beast, I suppose. Even when you’re free, memories are shackles of their own.” The sentiment was met with resounding murmurs around the table.

Makoto looked bashful again as she poked at her dish with the tip of her fork. “It always seems to come around to that, doesn’t it?” She directed her gaze at Yusuke after a moment. “I can understand where you’re coming from. My sister is… difficult. It’s hard to make yourself known when people expect perfection all the time. Even more so when they’re close to you.”

Yusuke hummed in response. “Close… It’s complicated, of course, but yes. He was close.”

The smallest grin graced Makoto’s face. “I’m glad I can understand at least a little, then. Do you mind if I share some thoughts?”

“By all means.”

“I think you’re doing fine. I can’t imagine what it’s like to escape from under the shadow of a man like that. But you’re one of the most free-spirited people I know. I doubt anyone could keep that down.” The earnesty in her voice rang through every word.

Yusuke faltered. “Do you really think…?”

“Of course I do. I think you’ll be free of his shadow someday.” Pause. “Erm, pun not intended. Just keep making small steps.”

It took a moment for him to react. After a moment, he closed his eyes with a thoughtful hum. The ghost of a grin brushed at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take your words to heart. Thank you.”

The shadow of the moment passed, and the spirit of joviality rushed back to replace it. Before anyone could say anything, though, a mischievous glare from Futaba caught Akira’s attention.

“I don’t think I like that look in your eyes.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” she huffed. “It’s not like it’s anything bad.”

“Care to share?” Akira inquired, glancing at her from over the top of his frames.

“I had an idea, that’s all.”

This got everyone’s attention. All eyes were on her as she pressed on.

“Akira, you know how we were working through my promise list?”

“Yes…”

Yusuke quirked an eyebrow. “Promise list?”

“It was a list of things I wanted to do to get better. Akira here was really good at keeping me accountable.”

Akira started toying with a strand of hair in his face again. “Don’t give me too much credit. It was mostly you.”

“Haha!” She pointed a finger at him across the table. “That’s exactly what I mean! That encouragement!”

“I--”

“So,” she started, cutting him off before he could object. “What if Inari did something like that? You know… little steps. To help him express himself and stuff. Aaaaaand,” she drawled, shifting her pointed finger from Akira to Yusuke. “The lovebird deal should make it even easier, right? I bet he’s done stuff like that already.”

The pink tinge on his face was unmistakable.

“Called it.”

Makoto had a glow of approval in her eyes; a rarity, considering how fruitless these study sessions tended to be. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Assuming Yusuke is alright with it, of course?”

He nodded in that serene way. “I could hardly say no to such a suggestion. Improvement is a journey, art or otherwise.”

Futaba scowled. “Why do you have to make everything sound so deep?”

He just chuckled in response. “Well then. Where do I start?”

The gleam was back in her eyes. “I think you should swear.”

The silence that followed her declaration was shattered by raucous laughter from Ryuji. Everyone else glanced between the two of them, slack-jawed, until his laughing petered off into a cough. “Sorry, I just-”

Yusuke’s mouth set in a firm line. “Absolutely not. I’m amazed you thought to even suggest something so childish.”

Ryuji hesitated for just a moment before he spoke. “I dunno. I think she’s got a point, man.”

Makoto frowned. “You were just laughing about it, Ryuji.”

“I know, but--” He paused, leg bouncing like crazy as he mulled over his words. “I mean, think about it. Wouldn’t that be a good way to help? A new medium to express his emotions or whatever.”

Akira snorted. “You mostly want to hear him cuss, huh.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe. But still.”

Futaba kept pushing. “That’s how this whole conversation happened to begin with. It only makes sense.”

Yusuke didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “That seems like such a crude and... unnecessary way to start.”

“The fact you’re afraid of it says something.”

“I--” he froze, at a loss for words. He recovered from his stupor after a moment. “Who said I was afraid?”

“I did. I mean, it’s really obvious,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “You know what’s crude? Beating a shadow with a katana until it’s begging for its life. You don’t seem to have a problem with that one.”

“...Touche.”

“So why the hold up with a few syllables? Why don’t you prove to me you’re not afraid?”

“Futaba…” Makoto warned, shooting her a furtive glance. Ryuji, on the other hand, was leaning forward in his chair. He seemed delighted.

Yusuke cleared his throat. “Akira, help.”

“Hmmm.” Akira leaned back in the booth. “Sorry. Futaba’s in charge.” He decided it was in his best interest not to mention how much this was amusing him. “Give it a chance. I think she’s making a good point.” He gave her a pointed look. “Just try not to break him.”

“Akira…” Betrayal dripped from his voice.

He felt only a little guilty. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

Yusuke sighed in defeat. “Fine, then.”

“Alright!” Futaba cheered, clapping her hands. “Game time. I’ll make it worth it, I promise. How about we bet on food? Ramen on me if you can do it.”

Akira laughed. “With what money?”

“Yours.”

“Hey.”

Yusuke’s interest seemed piqued. “I can’t say no to that.”

Akira mentally resigned himself to the bill.

“So, Inari. Can you say fuck?”

Ryuji couldn’t help but let a laugh slip, which he desperately tried to smother by coughing. Makoto only sighed, pressing her fingers to her forehead.

Yusuke looked strained. “No buildup, I see.”

Ryuji grinned at him from where he sat. “Hey, man, you got this. I believe in you.”

“...Thanks.” He took a deep breath. Was he steeling himself? “Alright. Say the word.”

Futaba gave him a nod and a thumbs-up. Ryuji leaned in with an eager grin plastered on his face as Makoto and Akira watched, impassive. The former looked pained. The latter was unreadable.

“Ffff…”

This was it. The moment of truth.

“..u..”

His eyes burned with intensity.

“...”

His jaw clenched. His voice faltered, then stopped. Was he sweating?

“You got this!” Ryuji called, ever the supporter. Akira noted that he had his phone out. Was he texting Ann?

The silence dragged on. Finally, Yusuke cleared his throat. Everyone at the table leaned in without a second thought, straining to hear. All focus was on him.

“Fu--”

The jingling of the bell at the door shattered the moment. Yusuke, wound tight as a spring, nearly launched himself out of his seat at the sound before slumping forward in his seat, eyes wild. His forehead hit the tabletop as he let out a strained wheeze. The rest of the group was startled out of their focus by the violent reaction. While Yusuke deflated, everyone else turned to look at the door.

Sojiro stood in the entrance with a baffled expression. “What are you doing to that poor man?” he asked, characteristically gruff.

Yusuke sighed. If they hadn’t been listening, they would have missed the quiet, nearly imperceptible “fuck” that he huffed out under his breath.

Sojiro’s confusion only increased when Ryuji shot up from his seat, whooping. “He did it! Did you all catch that? He did it!”

Ryuji’s laughter was met with Futaba’s cackling while Yusuke melted into the table. Makoto spared Sojiro a weary grin. “I’m sorry for the noise.”

Sojiro, after a moment of hesitation, just shrugged at the commotion before making his way to the other side of the bar.

Amidst the loud celebration taking place, Akira patted one of Yusuke’s knees under the table. “Nice work,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

“Love you.” He leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Mmmm. You too.” He finally sat up, then leaned against Akira’s shoulder. “They aren’t going to let me live that down, are they?”

“Definitely not. Feel any better?”

“A little.” He glanced over at Futaba, who was occupied celebrating her victory with Ryuji. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout again to my pal Isaac for helping me conceive this monstrosity!


End file.
